Hearing the name ‘Mrs. King’ throws me for a bit of a loop. It actually does take a second for it to register that I am, in fact, Mrs. Alexander King, and the whole purpose of me living here is to make people believe that we are indeed a married couple.

I clear my throat before I square my shoulders, reminding myself that I’m doing this to secure my rightful future and that I need to play my part in this whole happily-ever-after illusion. God knows I don’t need to give Alexander any reason to argue with me. It seems that when we do that, we end up tearing at each other’s clothes. “That’s right. I believe my husband is expecting me.”

This seems to satisfy the old man. He gives me a curt nod and then opens the door for me. “Right this way, Madame.”

“Thank you . . .” I trail my words as I pass by him, unsure of his name.

“Darby,” he announces while still wearing his smile.

I smile in return, completely at ease with this man who seems to be extremely friendly. I don’t know how in the world the man keeps such a pleasant outlook considering he has one of the biggest pricks in Manhattan living in his place of employment. It’s bad enough I have to fetch Alexander’s coffee and whatever else he needs while being treated like crap. I can only imagine how unpleasant he must be toward Darby when he passes by him every day.

I make my way through the elegant lobby and listen to the heels of my shoes click on the marble tile as I head toward the elevator. When I press the up button, it occurs to me that I have no clue what floor Alexander’s apartment is on.

I turn toward the front door where Darby busies himself collecting my bags from the driver and placing them on a gold plated trolley. I bite my lip, unease suddenly rocking through me at the realization of how unprepared I am for this situation.

The panic I feel must be evident on my face because the moment the doorman pushes his cart up next to me, he asks, “Are you all right, Madame?”

I tuck a loose strand of my dark hair back behind my ear. “Oh, yes. I’m perfectly fine.”

Darby’s quiet for a few moments. “You know, I was a wee bit nervous the first night my bonny lass and I settled into our cottage together. I believe that’s normal for everyone when they get married.”

“Oh, I’m not—” The elevator dings cutting me off before I babble on how I’m not going out of my mind right now when, in fact, I am.

I step inside and move to the side so Darby can squeeze inside with my things.

Darby punches the ‘P’ button on the elevator, so I make a mental note to remember that for next time. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about. Alex is a good lad.”

I bunch my brow together. Since I’ve met Alexander King, I’ve never heard anyone address him so informally, so this takes me aback and makes me a bit curious. “Have you worked for Alexander long?”

Darby nods. “Aye. The missus and me have worked for Alex’s family for the better part of thirty years now—since Alex was a wee babe. I think that’s about the time we moved to the States from Ottawa Valley. Aggie practically raised Alex and Diem, you know.”

That’s a lot of information to take in, but one thing definitely stood out to me about that story. “So when you say that you’ve worked for his family . . . do you mean that the Kings own this building?”

“Aye,” he answers. “It’s been in the King family for generations. When Alexander’s father inherited it, he decided to turn the penthouse into his family home.”

From the research I had done on Alexander, I discovered that his father was a very family-oriented man with a reputation of integrity. It was clear by all the photos I found of the two of them before Mr. King had passed away that Alexander and his father were close. So it doesn’t exactly surprise me that this building, much like his company, was passed on to his son too.

When the elevator’s doors open into the hall, only one door comes into view. It’s painted a soft cream color and trimmed in gold accents, making it very reminiscent of a much more regal era when paired with the red carpet that also contain gold trim. Just to the right of the door is a small box that appears to be an intercom. I stand back as Darby presses the call button to alert a bell on the other side of the door.

“Yes?” an older lady’s voice calls over the box.

“Aggie, I’ve got the new Mrs. King for ye. Care to open the door and let the lass inside?”

Within moments, the locks on the other side of the door jingle, and the door is opened, revealing a foyer fit for a palace. My eyes widen at the sight of all the marble with gold accents. A staircase stands proudly in the middle of the space, leading up to another level of the apartment. This entry takes me back to a time when I was a little girl and dreamed of being a princess living in a castle; only it’s more amazing than my dreams.

“Don’t be shy. Come on in.” The lady who I’m banking is Aggie, Darby’s wife, holds the door open for me.

She smiles as I pass her, and much like her husband, there’s a very friendly energy surrounding Aggie. The blue of her maid’s uniform enriches the color of her ocean-blue eyes while her gray hair sits in a low bun, showing off her round face.

Darby follows me inside, and Aggie quickly turns her attention from me to her husband. “He’s done well, hasn’t he, Darby? This one is a pretty one.”

A blush creeps over my cheeks as I listen to the woman dote on me.

Aggie closes the door, causing the bottom hem of her uniform to swish about a bit. “Now that we’re alone, we want you to know that Darby and myself know the truth about the situation at hand, so there’ll be no need in puttin’ on a show fur the likes of us.”

I raise my eyebrows, still not sure if I should break my cover just in case they really don’t know that Alexander and I didn’t really mean to get married.

“Don’t look so surprised, dear. There’s not much that Alex keeps from us. He gave us all the details. I still can’t believe that Henry put that silly clause in his will. I tried to explain that just because he was wild until he was thirty-two didn’t mean that our Alex would be the same. I wish Henry were here to see just how well his son has done with running the empire he built. He would’ve been so proud and that little clause would never have existed.” Aggie sighs. “It’s just a shame Alex still has to deal with all this.” She quickly backpedals. “Not that it’s anything to do with you personally, dear. I’m sure you’re a lovely young lady and we’ll be happy to have ye here until this mess is settled. I just wish he didn’t have to go through proving that he’s capable of running a business even though he makes a few mistakes.”

“The lad is only human,” Darby chimes in. “Can’t expect him to be perfect all the time.”

“He’s far from perfect.” My eyes widen the moment I realize that I’ve actually said what was running through my mind. Not wanting to offend two people who clearly care for Alexander, I try to correct my mistake. “Er—I mean . . .”

Darby laughs. “No wonder he likes her. She’s a feisty one.”

Aggie nods in agreement. “Aye. Maybe he’s found his match.”

I stand there, completely unsure of what to say.

“Come on, lass. Let me show yew to where you’ll be staying,” Aggie instructs and then turns toward the staircase. “Darby will bring your bags up to your room. I’m sure you’ll need to freshen up for dinner.”

Once at the top of the stairs, Aggie leads me down a wide hallway lined with paintings. Some of the paintings are abstract pieces, while a few focus on people. Each one is more beautiful than the last. One, in particular, catches my attention.

It’s Alexander.

He sits in a high-back leather chair, and the dark background causes the red tie he’s wearing to pop out against his gray suit. It’s uncanny how lifelike the piece looks. There’s a hint of mischief in his gray eyes paired with that signature cocky grin. Even in a painting Alexander King appears to be up to no good. It’s amazing how even a picture of him causes my body to do crazy things, like yearn his touch.